I Carry Your Heart
by Arlad
Summary: Gus pays Brian a very unexpected visit. Brian must figure out a way to help his son, and later he, Jusin and Gus must deal with the fall out. Post 513
1. Chapter 1

Author: Arlad  
Summary: Brian gets an unexpected visit from his son.  
Rating: R  
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all of its characters are property of CowLip, I'm only borrowing them

**Breathe Me**

Brian slid open the loft door wearily. It had been a hell of a week, and not in a good way.

Babylon's light and sound system needed to be replaced, and of fucking course, apparently he was now the only possible authority on fucking light fixtures and sound speakers. This is why he payed people, damn it.

A big account was being dangled at him, in that 'na na na na, you know you want it' annoying kind of way. The account was big enough there was a small bloodbath going on to get it between all the Madison Avenue firms and his own, but he knew he'd get it. He _was _Brian Kinney, for fuck's sake, and this and sex were his talents. It was still fairly exhausting, though, being so damn brilliant.

Justin was away for this very week, too, setting up a show in New York, so nobody was there to blow job him out of the funk. Or give him an orgasm spectacular enough that everything else faded.

The real fucking cherry on the top of everything, though, was that Cynthia was ill. 'Can't go to work for a week' type of ill. It was a true and rather ridiculous irony that so much of Brian's trust and sanity was placed on a woman.

With a somewhat dramatic sigh he closed the door, shut off the alarm and shrugged out of his coat. It was times like these when he was very grateful they hadn't gotten rid of the upstairs door. Being able to skip the going up the stairs part to get to his Beam and his bed was all too welcome tonight. He was tossing his keys and moving to the liquor cabinet with frenzied need when he saw it.

A dark, tousled head of hair peeking out from the couch. A head he knew quite well.

"Gus, what the fuck are you doing here?"

The teenager being addressed whipped around, eyes wide and startled.

He quietly took in his father, who looked incredibly tired and yet beautiful in a way he could never fully grasp. He knew his dad was hot, not in a creepy Oedipus complex kinda way. No, he knew his dad was hot because any and all of his gay male friends, his allegedly straight male friends and all of his female friends had crushed on him at some point in his life... and gushed like fucking fangirls and groupies.

He vaguely remembered a kindergarten playmate, all of five years old, who was totally infatuated after seeing him at some recital. She'd become terribly annoying, until Gus had resorted to breaking her yellow crayon (her favorite) and telling her in no uncertain terms that his Daddy already had his Justin and didn't like smelly girls, anyway. They stopped being friends after that.

No, what had always impressed him about his dad wasn't just his physical presence. Or the fact that he always looked so in control. It was something else, something only a few people could ever really see. Maybe, if he'd listened to Ben more often instead of perfecting the art of the daydream, he'd be able to say precisely what it was. But the only way he could phrase it was that his dad was shelter. He was protection and understanding, and honesty. Maybe it was his soul. Whatever the fuck it was, Gus had always gone to him first, with everything.

His mothers knew of the things that happened to him, obviously, but ever since he could sort of dial a phone and later, sign in AIM and set up his web cam, Gus had gone to Brian. For childhood fears, for painful puberty and fledgling adolescence. For his joys and his grief, for laughing and 'I'm not fucking crying'.

It was hard, not seeing him all the time. Just summers, just holidays, the occasional flight up when work wasn't impossible. But living in the 21st century had its perks, coming doom, destruction and alleged Apocalypse notwithstanding, and being able to keep in touch with someone was one of the most developed ones.

This time, however, e-mails, texts, phone calls and video feed couldn't cut it. This time, he needed his dad, up close and real.

"Uh… hey, Dad."

Brian lifted an eyebrow, and Gus cringed. Yeah, 'hey Dad' wasn't the most articulate thing he could have said right then.

Brian walked towards him, leaving the shot of Beam for later, and sat down on the couch next to him. He was about to repeat his question, with much more colorful expletives, when he took full stock of his son's appearance. The barely concealed tension, thrumming in him like electricity in a thin wire. The way he ran a hand across his hair – much like himself – and mussed it up terribly. But mostly his eyes. Troubled and faintly afraid. Confused. And Brian knew his son had a good reason to show up in his loft, so he asked a different question.

"Do your mothers know you're here?"

Gus hesitated. Brian rolled his eyes.

"And how long _have_ you been here? Just so I know how much crazy, worried, pissed off lesbian I'm gonna have to take."

"I got here like an hour ago," Gus frowned at his watch. "But my flight left Toronto at five. And I walked out of the house at half past three."

"And how did you manage to pay for a plane ticket?" Brian really hoped theft wouldn't be added to Gus' already long detention-deserving list of actions.

"Well, I had some money saved from mowing lawns and baby sitting for the neighbors… and from my allowance".

Toronto was certainly a friendly place, Brian mused, if a fourteen year old could swing a plane ticket on money made on odd jobs.

Well, this certainly explained the blinking red light in his machine, he was sure he had more than twenty messages; and when he turned on his cell phone it would probably explode with voicemails – he'd been busy enough and tired enough to just shut it off since lunch time.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying in vain to keep the headache away. It had been coming all day, but this really made it rear its ugly head with a vengeance.

Before he said anything, Gus stood up, went to into the bedroom and then into the kitchen, which was rarely used as that now except to store water, coffee and beers. He returned with a bottle of water and two pills. Brian took them silently, knowing it was the easy way out. Gus was worse at mothering Brian than Justin, Debbie and Michael, and much more precise at it. The Kinney genes in him made him savvier than most.

Brian took one last drink of water and asked, "So, you want to talk about whatever you came to talk about before or after I call Toronto?"

"Before," Gus didn't hesitate to answer.

Brian nodded, but decided he needed to be slightly more comfortable to have the serious conversation his son's mood heralded. He went into the bedroom, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

"Are you hungry? Want to order pizza or Thai?" he called from the bathroom.

"Already ordered pizza, should get here in a few minutes. Timed it perfectly so you'd be here to pay," Gus' voice drifted over, the amusement evident.

"Little twat," Brian muttered, putting on his softest and oldest jeans on, along with a black wifebeater. Before leaving the bedroom, he fished out a couple of bills out of his wallet to pay for the death by calories Gus had ordered.

Sure enough, the intercom buzzed and Brian could hear Gus letting the delivery man in. Perfect timing indeed. He made his way down the stairs to the first floor of the loft to pay – the door upstairs was reserved for Justin and himself.

He handed the delivery man the money and gave him a generous tip, barely noticing the way the guy ate him up with his eyes. It was quite a rush sometimes to be on the receiving end of such lustful glances when he was already hitting forty three, but he had no patience to relish the moment right then. So with a tight smile, he closed the door.

After grabbing two waters from the fridge downstairs – which was sensibly stocked with groceries Justin bought - he and Gus headed to the most comfortable couch in the place, one that Justin had picked. And Brian had tried to hate. Until he sat down on it.

They ate the pizza with relish, Brian breaking his precious 'no carbs after seven' rule in favor of a relaxed meal with his son. However, soon the pizza was finished and whatever anxiety had brought Gus to Pittsburgh surfaced again.

Brian took a deep breath. He hoped the patron saint of reasonably narcissistic, dangerously charming, gay fathers was looking out for him. Or that Justin would arrive suddenly. He really doubted either thing would happen.

"So – what's up, Gus?" he finally asked.

"I did something bad," Gus started, looking down at his hands. "Something… something really bad."

Brian ran through the worst case scenarios in his head and figured he had more than enough money to deal with them, and a fucking good lawyer.

He didn't speak up, though, knowing Gus was a bit like him in that way. The wrong thing or the right thing said at the wrong time would make him clam up and he doubted that even Justin, at his most determined and stalkerish, could go up against the silence of his son and win.

"I – Dad, I acted like _them_," Gus spit out the last word like poison. Still not looking up, frowning at whatever he'd remembered. "They were kissing in the locker room, and the rest of the team walked in and… and… they said things. They started saying these things…" he paused, and finally looked up at Brian, the anguish in his eyes so raw it hurt Brian to see it. "And _I_ said things. _Me_. Even though I have two mothers, and two fathers and like five uncles and even though I know what happened to Justin…" he trailed off, his quickened words still ringing in the sudden silence. "Mark is my _friend_, Dad. Maybe not my best friend, but we get along. And instead of defending him, of standing up for him and Steve… I called them names. I acted like a homophobic prick." His face was shining with tears and he looked broken, and something inside Brian was breaking too. "And then I just left, I had to leave. And I got home, and mom was there and she kept asking and asking and..." Gus' voice wavered. "And I called her a fucking fag," he choked out. "I didn't mean to, I swear I didn't. I was just _so_ angry at myself. _So_ angry. And she kept asking."

They stayed quiet while Gus breathed deeply, calming down. Brian just waited, not judging and not speaking, waited for Gus to let everything out. Gus tried to still his racing thoughts and racing heart, desperately hoping his dad wouldn't be angry and would forgive him for an offense he'd committed against someone else. But while Gus may not have realized it yet, he'd been absolved the moment he was born and his father first held him in his arms.

"I don't understand why I did it. I've stood up for my friends before, against any kind of bully. I've gone up against the same guys who started in the locker room. But I didn't go against them this time. I – I was one of them," he said with such disgust Brian reached out instinctively, placing a hand on Gus' thigh. Gus looked up at him and in the soft lamplight saw nothing but love and understanding in his father's face. No anger. None of the disgust he felt so deeply. "Why, dad?"

Brian looked at him carefully for a second.

"Gus, I could give you an easy answer. I could tell you it was a momentary lapse of sanity, that it wasn't really you saying those things." Brian paused, considering his next words. "I could tell you that, but I won't. Because the truth is, it _was_ you," Gus looked at him with something akin to despair, and Brian hastened to elaborate. "Sonny boy, people aren't all black or white. We aren't all perfect little angels or dreadful demons. We're a complicated mess of shades of gray… and we're both divine and monstrous. There's both good _and_ bad in us, Gus. And sometimes, the bad wins out." Brian shrugged, tilting his head. "Maybe you were tired. Maybe you wanted, for once, to be part of the pack. Maybe you just had a bad day. But one bad day and one bad thing doesn't mean _you're_ a bad person. It just means you're a person," he said, gently cupping his son's face in his hand. "And I can tell you now, it's not the last bad thing you'll do. But what matters isn't that you do something bad, not really. It's what you learn, and what you grow. What you choose to do from then on."

Gus stared at Brian for a moment, absorbing his words and processing them.

Then, after an audible swallow, he quietly asked, "Do you think my friends will forgive me? Do you think mom will forgive me?"

"You have to ask them. And more importantly, you have to prove to them you're sorry," Brian answered. "But yes, I think they will."

Sorry isn't bullshit, after all. Not when it's truly meant. Not when it's not just a word.

"And… do you forgive me?" Gus looked at Brian with wide eyes.

"Sonny boy – there's nothing to forgive." He smiled softly. And Gus threw himself into his father's arms, for all the world like he was only four and not fourteen, feeling a relief and a love so strong he felt like he was floating.

"I love you," Gus whispered into Brian's ear.

"And I love you. Always will, no matter what," Brian replied.

He thought of the first time he held this body – he was drunk and horny, and fucking terrified. Because he was in love. And not with the blond twink, not yet anyway, but with a tiny blob of pink, looking up at him with eyes so much like his own.

He thought of signing away rights, something inside screaming, because he never knew pen to a paper could hurt.

He thought of the first time Gus said 'Dada'. He thought of the first time they played with trains, and Cowboy Chicken. He thought of his little boy leaving, on a cold, foggy day. A day with more departures than he thought he could stand.

His mind traveled over the years, keeping in touch with his two boys. Both of them growing. Both of them away from him. And yet, they'd never left him. Not really. Not ever. They couldn't. And he couldn't. Because they loved him, and he loved them. In a different way that he'd ever loved anyone else in his life, each one of them differently. But with the same deepness, with the same steadfastness. And they loved him back.

Holding his son, breathing in his tears and his relief, Brian Kinney finally understood that love weighs nothing.

**TBC**

Author's note: title taken from the song 'Breathe Me' by Sia, which inspired this story. This almost wrote itself in the middle of the night, came to me from nowhere… Please let me know what you think, feedback is heaven :)


	2. Chapter 2

Author: Arlad  
Summary: Gus, Brian and Justin deal with the fallout of one of Gus' actions, both positive and negative, before spending a weekend together in New York.  
Rating: NC-17

Timeline: 9 years after 513, Gus is fourteen years old.  
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all of its characters are property of CowLip, I'm only borrowing them

This story is dedicated to Dominique, my friend, my beta and my virtual Brooklyn tour guide. Love you!

**I carry your heart**

Gus looked on anxiously as his father spoke on the phone. He was sure his mothers had been freaking out… or maybe they hadn't noticed he'd been gone. Yeah, right, he wasn't that fucking lucky.

"Linds, he's _fine_, just fine," Brian repeated once again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He didn't commit a crime, he didn't rob a liquor store. He was just going through some shit, and he wanted to come talk to me."

A pause. Gus wondered how pissed Brian would have been if he _had_ robbed a liquor store.

"No, he couldn't do it over the phone. He felt like he had to come here and it was the right thing," Brian rolled his eyes, and huffed out an impatient sigh. "No, I'm not saying I think he should skip out of school and leave the country whenever he feels like talking to me, I'm just saying it was the right thing for him to do this once."

Worried at his mother's reaction as Gus was, he couldn't help but feel happy at the support his dad was showing him. He'd already told him, in no uncertain terms, how 'fucking dangerous' it had been to show up like this, but he'd also understood the desperation and need behind Gus' decision to fly to Pittsburgh.

"He'll explain everything to you," Brian was assuring Lindsay. "Yes, I'll send him home tomorrow. And I'll talk to you again after you've spoken with him… let me put him on."

With a raised eyebrow, Brian handed the phone to Gus. "Your mommy wants to talk to you, sonny boy," he said with false cheer. Seeing the reluctance in Gus' eyes, he added, "Hey, don't worry. It'll be fine."

"Hey mom…"

Leaving Gus to field Lindsay's questions and admonishments, Brian headed over to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a long awaited shot of Beam. A plan was forming in his mind that he hoped he could get Lindsay to agree to. Mel might feel like ripping him a new one, but that was the one advantage the Munchers living in another country had – he was allowed to surf the web for decent porn and tune her out while she was 'seriously talking to him about something'.

"Dad?" Brian turned to see a slightly teary Gus holding the phone out to him. "Mom wants to talk to you again."

"Thanks, sonny boy," Brian replied and moved to the bedroom, out of Gus' earshot. "Linds, I have to ask you something…"

o

Gus stood in front of the window, looking out the darkened street. He was still feeling a bit off, his mother's words ringing in his ears – 'you hurt me and then you scared the hell out of me'. He'd had no satisfactory answer. She was right.

"_Gus, just tell me what's wrong," Lindsay pleaded._

"_What's wrong is you won't leave me alone!" Gus yelled, his eyes wild and guilty. "Just leave me alone you fucking fag!" and with that, he grabbed his rucksack and ran out of the house._

He frowned at the memory, and was startled to feel his dad's hand on his shoulder.

"Stop brooding by the window, sonny boy. You're acting too much like me," Brian said, tongue in cheek. "Come on, let's go sit down."

They sat down on the couch and Gus waited for his dad to speak.

"So, like we already arranged with your mom, you're going back to Toronto tomorrow afternoon. I'd like to go with you, but I'm going to New York this week for an account and I have some stuff to settle before I go. There _is_ something I'd like to run by you, though… Would you like to come to New York this weekend with Justin and me?" Brian asked. "We'll both be staying in our loft there all next week, 'cause like I said I have a few meetings and Justin's show is on Friday," he explained. "I ran it by your mom and she's fine with it. So how about it?"

Gus stared at his dad in disbelief. "Are you kidding? Of course I'd love to go!"

"Excellent. Well, then, you better go down to your room, it's late." Brian stood up and clapped him on the back. "Good night, Gus."

"Good night, dad," Gus replied, and headed downstairs to his bedroom.

Brian knew Mel would say he was 'rewarding' Gus for his bad behavior, and that he'd make his son think it was fine to run away and all that shit, but he wasn't inviting Gus to New York as a reward. He knew that Gus still felt very guilty and that he had a horrible week ahead of him… and he also knew how much his son missed him. Words could only do so much, and spending the weekend with him, making sure Gus understood nothing had changed between them, that he loved him no matter what he'd done, was the least he could do. He felt sure Justin would agree. With a jolt, he remembered his cell phone was still turned off and he had a call to make. Shit, Justin wouldn't let him live this down soon – he was always taking Brian's rebukes because he'd forget to turn his phone on.

Cringing slightly, Brian dialed the familiar number, but he couldn't keep from smiling when he heard the voice on the other side of the line.

o

"_Flight 13A to Toronto is now boarding in Gate 3"_

"That's you, sonny boy," Brian said, standing up.

Father and son walked towards the security check, and stopped just in front of it.

"Well… bye, dad," Gus said, looking up rather sadly.

"Take care," Brian said, smiling softly. "And remember we're seeing each other again in less than a week. I'll send the flight information to you, and I'll pick you up in New York, ok?"

Gus nodded and hugged his dad fiercely.

"You'll be fine, sonny boy," Brian whispered. And as he saw his son make his way to the gate, he hoped with all his heart he was right.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out to answer.

"Hey… yeah, just dropped him off. He looks shit scared…"

o

**Toronto, Canada**

Gus stared out of the window, focusing on the landscape whirring past him so as not to drown in the silence of the car. The heavy, charged silence. He knew his mom wouldn't cause a scene in the airport or start an important discussion in the car. No, like the good WASP she was, she'd wait until they were home and he could fully receive her quiet fury without interruptions or curious bystanders. All too soon they'd arrived to their house, its familiar sight rather unwelcome to him.

The minute he stepped through the door, Mel appeared in the hall, looking at him with a half frown. She put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes searchingly, before giving him a quick hug and muttering, "Don't ever fucking do that again."

Sometimes it was kinda scary how much his dad and Mel resembled each other.

"Gussy!" a gleeful voice heralded the approach of J.R.

Gus cringed at the nickname, but hugged his little sister gratefully nonetheless. She was the one person in the household who wouldn't glare at him for the next few days… unless he told her she looked like a pimple when she wore pink. Which was the truth, really.

"J.R. why don't you go up to your room? Momma and I need to talk to your brother," said Lindsay behind him.

J.R. rolled her eyes but did as she was asked, and Gus regretfully saw his last excuse for silence head upstairs. His mom gestured with her head and he followed her into the living room with the air of a condemned man heading for the guillotine. He sat down and waited for the ranting.

It didn't come. Instead, Lindsay looked at him for some time, and then asked "Gus… what happened yesterday?"

Gus took a deep breath. And braced himself to tell the story once again.

_He was tired and sweaty, desperate for a shower. He walked into the locker rooms with the rest of the soccer team and stopped short at the sight before him__.. Mark and Steve were kissing against one of the lockers. Before he could do or say anything, Joe Bateman started yelling, advancing upon the two startled teens. "Fucking faggots! What the fuck are you doing kissing in here! You're fucking disgusting!" _

"_Yeah, you're disgusting!" Anthony Walden joined in, his voice loud and jarring in Gus' ears. Someone had thrown a soccer ball at Steve and Mark, someone else had thrown a water bottle. _

_Suddenly, it became pandemonium. Steve and Mark trying to fight back, trying to get away from the combined, irrational wrath of a homophobic jock and other students too scared to contradict him, finding it easier to join in. And just as suddenly, Gus found he had joined in too – yelling, throwing slurs._

_Mark and Steve managed to retreat at last, quickly heading towards the exit, but before the door closed behind them, Gus caught Mark's eye, and the accusation and pain in the swift glance made him sick with regret._

"And then – I just got out of there. I had to. And I came here, and you kept asking and –" his voice broke then, and he angrily brushed away the tears that started falling. "I'm so sorry, mom. I am _so_ sorry. It's the most horrible thing I've ever done, calling you that… acting like I did…" he looked up at her. "Will you please forgive me?"

Lindsay looked at her son with compassion. She understood now what Brian had said, why he'd supported Gus and defended him. The self loathing in his eyes was heartbreaking… she could only imagine how much worse it had been before he'd talked with his dad.

"Oh, Gus, of course I forgive you," she answered at last, opening her arms. Gus hugged her gratefully, and whispered a relieved "Thank you."

That night, Gus stared up at the ceiling in his room, his heart lighter. He still had more apologies to make, and like his dad had said, he had to prove he meant them. He'd called him right after talking to his mom and had texted him again before going to bed. He grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand and found the latest text message he'd received.

'Fucking go to sleep, sonny boy, school tomorrow. Love you too.'

With a smile, he placed his phone back and finally drifted off to sleep.

o

**Pittsburgh**

"Morning, Bri!" Ted greeted, approaching Brian's desk with a large Starbucks and a full folder.

"Morning, Theodore. And please, _do_ try not to be so damn cheerful this early in the morning. It's unnatural," Brian said, snatching the tall latte Ted held out for him. He took a long drink, and briefly wondered at the strangeness of _Theodore_ knowing exactly how he liked his coffee. His grumpiness now slightly abated by the ingestion of caffeine, he asked, "So is everything ready for the Levi's account?"

"Yep, the boards are ready and packed, the video looks perfect and all the papers are drawn up," Ted answered immediately, pointing to the folder now on Brian's desk. "Think we'll get it?" he asked hopefully.

Brian glared at him.

"Of course we'll get it, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Ted exclaimed, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

The corner of Brian's mouth lifted slightly and he raised an eyebrow. "Don't let me catch you having such doubts again, Theodore. Self-deprecation only works for actors accepting Oscars, _not_ for fucking amazing ad-men and accountants. And it never gets you laid. You ought to know." With that, he walked to the phone and started yelling at someone in the Art Department.

Ted looked at him for a moment, confused. He wasn't sure if he'd just been given a compliment or if he'd been insulted. Ah, well, with Brian it was often all the same thing, he reflected. He really should go tell Brian's assistant to get him another latte, lest the Art Department have a generalized breakdown again. This happened every time Justin was out of town.

o

**Brooklyn, ****New York**

"Honey, I'm hooome!" Brian called out in a corny falsetto voice.

"And are you trying to make me kick you out before we even fuck, or does it just come naturally?" Justin's voice came from somewhere inside the loft.

Brian chuckled, and after hanging up his coat he headed towards the bedroom. Where he found Justin lying down on the bed, stark naked.

"Ah, c'me on now… you'd never kick me out _before_ the fucking," Brian said quietly, standing just inside the doorway.

"Shut up and come here already."

Brian obliged, dropping his bag and moving quickly until he was kissing Justin. When they parted, he smiled and said, "Hey there, Sunshine."

"Hey. Missed you."

Brian didn't answer, but leaned in to kiss Justin again. And then proceeded to quickly get rid of his clothes, which were really getting in the way of his plan to fuck him spectacularly into the mattress.

Later, as they lay side by side, biding their time for another round, Brian was smoking a cigarette and Justin shifted and settled on his side, facing Brian.

"So you had a heavy time of it night before last, huh?" he asked.

Brian closed his eyes, a brief flash of the evening coming back to him. Gus crying, Gus holding on to him tightly.

"You could say that, yeah," he answered.

"What did you tell Linds so she'd agree to let him come this weekend?"

Brian shrugged. "Just reminded her she's the one that's always saying how important it is for Gus to know he can count on me… told her that he'd come to me for a reason, and I wanted to make sure he knew I – I really am here for him."

Justin nodded and kissed Brian's shoulder. There was something incredibly hot about Brian being a good dad… it made him seriously horny for him. Then again, when was he not horny for Brian? Realizing the futility of such a question, he decided to put it behind him and chose instead to straddle the man next to him, taking the cigarette from his hand and putting it out in the ashtray on the bedside table.

"So – ready for round two?"

o

**Toronto, Canada**

"Hey, Gus!" a voice called out behind him. Gus turned around and saw his best friend walking towards him across the school's front lawn.

"Hey, Jeff," he greeted once his friend had caught up.

"So you made a run for it on Friday, huh?" Jeffrey asked, nudging his shoulder.

"Yeah, how – did they notice?"

Jeffrey rolled his eyes. "Of _course_ they noticed. I had to make up some bogus story about a doctor's appointment so you wouldn't get in trouble."

Gus looked at him, surprised and grateful. "You did? Thanks, man," he said earnestly.

"That's what friends are for."

The statement hit Gus like a slap in the face. He stopped suddenly and Jeff stopped as well, confused. "Gus? You ok, man?"

"Did you hear – about what happened in the locker room?" Gus asked, not meeting his eyes.

"Yeah, I heard. Steve was a bit shaken up, Mark was _pissed._ They went to the principal, and Joe and Anthony got detention. Mrs. Rand wanted to expel them, she was so fucking angry at them, dude, going on about how this school is about tolerance and shit," Jeff shook his head. "But jocks will be jocks, huh?"

Gus swallowed and looked up. "Jeff… _I_ acted like a jock. I yelled at them, I – I was a fucking asshole."

"I know," Jeff answered matter-of-factly, and Gus was taken aback. "But I bet you spent the whole weekend totally angsting over it, right? Totally queening out, beating yourself up," Jeff chuckled at the look on Gus' face. "Gus, what you did sucked, man, but we all make mistakes. Just apologize to them."

Gus nodded and felt he'd never loved his best friend more. They walked on, toward a bunch of people congregating near the entrance.

Gus ran a nervous hand through his hair, recognizing Mark and Steve among the group. Most people called out a greeting to him and Jeff, but he just nodded at them, not stopping until he reached the rest of his friends. They fell quiet when the pair joined them, and the silence seemed unnatural in the noise surrounding them.

Gus stepped towards Mark and Steve, and addressed both of them, who looked at him somberly. "Guys – I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry for the way I treated you. I was completely out of line, and I can't even begin to imagine how horrible you must have felt. I should've known better, I don't know what the hell happened to me," he bit his lip. "I really am sorry. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I want you to know that."

Behind him, Jeffrey rolled his eyes and whispered, "Drama queen..." to the girl beside him, but she elbowed him and muttered, "Shut up, Jeff…"

There was a moment of silence, and eventually Steve nodded and smiled slightly. Mark, however, just stared at Gus and then walked off. Steve glanced at Gus for a second and then went after him.

Jeffrey clasped his shoulder. "Give him time, man. Give him time."

o

Thursday rolled around and Mark was still ignoring Gus, something that made him sadder than he admitted to anyone but his dad. Brian, intent on cheering him up, kept sending him stupid texts – new and elaborate names to call his creepy biology teacher, the exact formula and chemicals he'd need to blow up the lab, things of the sort. It made him laugh and wonder how much of a closet geek his dad really was, nobody knew _that_ much about Chemistry just because, but even that couldn't dispel the fact that one of his good friends wasn't speaking to him.

He was about to sit down next to Jeff in their usual table in the cafeteria when Joe Bateman approached him – apparently his detention was over.

"Still sitting with your fag friends, Kinney?" he asked, voice only loud enough for a few tables to hear. No teachers were around right then. "You're surrounded by fags all the time, aren't you? Sure you're not one yourself?" he goaded.

Gus didn't speak for a moment. The scene from last week flashed past his mind, then his mothers' faces. His dad's. Justin's. Emmett, Ted, Michael, Ben…

He put his tray down and turned to face Joe.

"So what if I am, Joe? Why the hell do you care?" he asked, chin tilted up, hazel eyes narrowed. "Yes, my mothers are gay. My fathers are gay. My uncles, some of my friends are gay – so fucking what? At least I'm surrounded by people who love me. Not by people who put up with me 'cause they're scared of me," Gus shook his head, sneering. "You're so fucking pathetic, Bateman, you know that? _So_ pathetic." And with that, he turned around and sat down.

Jeffrey whooped and clapped him on the back. "Way to go, Kinney!"

All his friends where laughing at the look on Bateman's face, congratulating Gus. But he was looking at Mark, who was finally smiling at him again. He was forgiven.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

Title: I Carry Your Heart

Author: Arlad  
Summary: Gus, Brian and Justin deal with the fallout of one of Gus' actions, both positive and negative, before spending a weekend together in New York.  
Rating: NC-17

Timeline: 9 years after 513, Gus is fourteen years old.  
Disclaimer: Queer as Folk and all of its characters are property of CowLip, I'm only borrowing them

**Chapter 3 - I carry your heart (I carry it in my heart)**

**Brooklyn, New York**

"I got it."

Silence. Then,

"Oh my god! Briaaan! Congratulations!" Justin screamed and ran towards Brian, launching himself into his arms.

"Whoa, there, Sunshine… your figure isn't what it used to be, you're a bit heavy, you know?"

Justin rolled his eyes and kissed him.

Eventually, Brian put him down so he could take off his coat and the rest of his work clothes, and Justin trailed behind him doing some sort of weird victory dance.

"Are you getting some sort of strange seizure, you twat? Or is this how the cool kids dance these days?"

Justin smacked him in the back of the head without missing a beat in his little dance and eventually plopped down on the bed.

"So does Ted know yet?"

"Of course he does… Cynthia probably had to take him to the ER, I'm pretty sure he was having a heart attack. Or maybe prolonged silence and rapid, irregular breathing is just Theodore's way of expressing happiness – you'd have to ask Blake," Brian replied, lying down next to Justin.

"You know, this calls for a major celebration," Justin said, smiling seductively.

"It does, huh?" Brian raised an eyebrow. "Well, do with me as you see fit – I'm fucking exhausted. Being absolutely brilliant isn't an easy job."

Justin took Brian's word, and after a massage, an amazing blow job and a very hot fucking session, both of them were beyond totally exhausted.

"So Gus gets here tomorrow at five thirty, right?" Justin asked from his place on Brian's chest.

"Yeah – he won't let us forget, don't worry. He's been texting me every two hours."

"Well, he's impatient. Kinda like his dad," Justin chuckled.

"If you could move, I'd show you how impatient I can be. But I'll let you sleep on it – I know your stamina isn't what it used to be."

Justin snorted in disbelief. Brian smiled and kissed the top of his head.

"Love you," he breathed out.

Justin didn't reply – he knew Brian hated it when couples said those words as a mandatory formula (Love you, me too). But in the comfortable silence of the night, he relished the quiet words, words he heard a thousand different ways every day. There was something a bit lighter about Brian, something a tiny bit different. He was sure it had something to do with Gus' impromptu visit to Pittsburgh last weekend, but whatever it was, he was glad of it. Brian looked as if he'd put an old demon to rest.

o

"Fuck, I hate fucking JFK," Brian muttered, looking at the crowds around him disdainfully. He walked purposefully to the arrivals gate, checking up on Gus' flight on the monitor. Eventually, he saw the gangly and tall figure of his son walking out and he lifted a hand. It wasn't as if Gus wouldn't see him, he _was_ pretty fucking tall.

Gus' face broke out in a smile and he hurried to his father's side. "Dad! I missed you!" he hugged him. "Where's Justin?"

"He wanted to come, but the show starts in about three hours, and the gallery was having some sort of last minute crisis," he rolled his eyes. "You know how artists can be."

Gus nodded and followed his dad towards the parking lot.

"Hey dad, this show isn't too fancy right? 'Cause my clothes aren't that cool…"

"You'll be fine. We can say you have an artistic temperament, people will understand your poor taste."

"Hey!" Gus elbowed his dad, laughing.

A couple of hours later Brian was buttoning up his shirt and giving the last extra hot touch to his hair. Justin was already out in the living room, watching something that sounded suspiciously like The Power Puff Girls.

"Justin! Are you watching that fucking cartoon again?" he called out.

"It's an all day marathon! I _had_ to watch it!" Justin answered back.

Brian rolled his eyes. With a final look in the mirror – he looked absolutely wonderful, of course, red really was his color – he walked out of the bedroom. Justin was dressed in black, all artsy and shit, and Gus was wearing…

"Sonny boy, we really need to go shopping this weekend. I can't have a son of mine wearing what looks suspiciously like fucking Old Navy," he said, grimacing.

"Hey, I love Old Navy!" Justin exclaimed.

Brian lifted an eyebrow. "Precisely. Well, anyway, we're definitely going shopping, ok? You can get away with Old Navy with all these artists, but it won't do for anything else."

Justin chuckled and shook his head and Gus smiled. It wasn't like he was going to complain, duh.

o

Justin's show was a total success and he basically sold everything. Brian himself bought an amazing piece of something that would look like just swirling colors to most people, but he knew it was actually his eyes surrounded by blue. Gus really loved it, so Brian agreed to let him hang it up in his bedroom in the Pittsburgh loft.

They were having a celebration dinner in a tiny Italian bistro Justin had discovered during his time here. It wasn't flashy or fashionable, but it had the best Italian food in the city and he loved it – when he'd felt really homesick he'd often come in here and eaten, the food reminding him of Debbie's dinners. So Brian, knowing it was his favorite place, had placed reservations and now Justin, Gus and himself were enjoying copious amounts of pasta, lasagna, salad and wine. Brian was really trying to just eat salad, but Gus and Justin kept sneaking pasta onto his fucking plate, and he couldn't not eat it. He was going to have to work this off in the gym all week, and in Justin.

Eventually, they made their way back to Brooklyn. Brian had hired a limousine, something that Justin had pretended to be a bit embarrassed about but had totally loved. Gus felt like an absolute celebrity, he was convinced someone might ask for his autograph. But they arrived to the loft on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights without any paparazzi falling upon them and went inside. Gus called out a sleepy good night and headed to his room, while Brian and Justin practically ran to their bedroom. This loft was smaller than the one in Pittsburgh, it only had one floor, for one thing, and it wasn't quite as open. Which was a good thing this once, since they could fuck without fear of scarring Gus for life. Too much.

o

"I can't believe we're on a fucking bus."

"Come on dad, it's not so bad. It's totally impractical to take a limo for shopping."

"No it isn't! We're going to have to take a fucking train after this!" Brian exclaimed.

"Well yeah, but the view is nice. I love riding around Brooklyn, it's awesome."

Brian grunted but said nothing else. Justin was _so_ going to pay for his little tip.

"_Oh, just take the b41 at Cadman Plaza __to Atlantic Avenue and you can catch the Q train there…"_

A fucking bus. And a fucking train. Who knew how many people had sat here? His jeans were probably being infected just by being in contact with the fucking seat. And there were goddam people selling stuff on the bus! It was disgusting.

After what seemed like an eternity to him, the bus came to a stop at Atlantic Avenue and he and Gus got off. The street was filled with shoppers making their way in and out of the Atlantic Ave. Mall.

"Why don't we just go in here, dad?" Gus asked, gesturing at the main doors.

Brian turned and stared at him with horror. "Sonny boy, we don't shop in _malls_," he said, his lip curling up in distaste at the word. "You've spent far too long with your mothers. I'm going to make sure you come and stay with us more often, this is worse than I thought."

Gus rolled his eyes at Brian's exaggeration, but he couldn't keep from smiling at his dad's insistence he spend more time with him and Justin.

Together they walked to the station and caught the Q train to Manhattan.

"So Mark's finally speaking to you again, right?" Brian asked.

"Yeah… I guess he was waiting to see if I meant my apology, like you said. But that's not why I stood up to Joe Bateman," Gus reflected. "I stood up to him because the truth is he was attacking people I loved. And I just couldn't let that happen again. Acting like he was, saying those things – he wasn't just going after Mark or Steve. He was going after my moms, my uncles, Justin… and you," he looked up at Brian.

Brian said nothing, just smiled and put his arm around his son's shoulder.

The train made a stop in 34th street and Brian and Gus walked out, heading towards 5th Avenue.

"Dad?" Gus asked tentatively. "Do you think we could go to Abercrombie?"

Brian lifted and eyebrow.

"They have cool clothes! Come on dad, I can't exactly go to school in Armani, can I? And you can check out the hot, shirtless models!" Gus pleaded.

"Sonny boy, models check _me_ out," Brian said arrogantly. But the boy did have a point… and those shirtless models were always good to look at.

"Fine. We can go to Abercrombie _after_ I've bought something decent for you to wear in Armani. You need some formal clothes."

Gus nodded, happy in his victory, and followed his dad to his favorite store.

They left Armani with a few more bags than planned, since Brian couldn't resist a black shirt he'd seen, and he really did need a new jacket to go with those jeans he'd bought last week. They walked down 5th Avenue towards A&F and Gus loved the simple fact of walking around New York with his dad. He'd been kinda scared he and Justin wouldn't like him around after what he'd done, but he really did believe what his dad had told him. He was loved no matter what. They finally arrived to the Abercrombie store, and Gus didn't miss how the shirtless model by the door did indeed check his dad out. He snorted and started looking for some jeans.

o

"I love this place!" Gus exclaimed. He and Justin were walking around Prospect Park.

Justin nodded. He really loved Brooklyn. He loved New York in general, but there was something intimate and real about Brooklyn that Manhattan didn't have. Brian had been somewhat reluctant to buy a loft there until he'd seen the place Justin wanted. It was really fucking perfect, and as Ted loved to point out, a bit cheaper than buying a place in Chelsea or Tribeca in Manhattan.

They eventually reached the lake and sat down on one of the benches. Justin had a sudden need to sketch Gus, so much like his father, looking in wonder at the lake before them. He wondered if that's how Brian had looked when he was fourteen, or if living with Jack and Joan had made him lose his wonder all too soon.

"Hey Justin?" Gus suddenly asked.

"What's up, Gus man?"

"Um… dad told you, right? About – about last weekend?" he asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, he did," Justin nodded. Gus frowned slightly and looked down. "And I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. Gus – I know you felt guilty and angry with yourself. But, trust me, I understand about doing things you wouldn't normally do in a crazy moment of wanting to belong."

Gus looked up, surprised.

"Now, I'm sure your dad never told you this, but a few years ago, I did something pretty stupid myself. I joined a group of gay vigilantes, to "fight the homophobes". It was ridiculous, trying to answer violence with violence – it made us no better than them. But at the time, I felt like it was what I needed to do… and to tell you the truth, one of the main reasons I did it was because I finally felt like I belonged, you know? Like I wasn't one of the freaks, one of the weirdos. It can be pretty tiring to be different. Sometimes we just find it easier to join in – even when we know it's wrong"

Gus nodded, gratefully taking in Justin's words, his silent forgiveness. Knowing what he'd been through had made him feel ashamed… realizing for a moment he'd been no better than Chris Hobbs' friends. But Justin understood, and forgave.

"What were they called?" he asked out of the blue.

"Who?"

"The group of gay vigilantes…" Gus explained.

"Oh. The Pink Posse."

Gus stared at him incredulously. Then he started laughing his ass off.

Justin tried to look offended, but after a second he joined in, their combined laughter carrying across the park. It really was a ridiculous name.

o

**Pittsburgh**

Brian slid the loft door open and Justin went inside ahead of him. He locked the door and set the alarm, happy to be home. It was a bit funny that after all those years desperate to leave Pittsburgh, he was now glad to return.

Justin was getting a snack from the kitchen downstairs, so Brian took their bags to the bedroom and started unpacking. He frowned when he found a paper package inside Justin's bag, so he opened it and a few photographs fell out. Pictures Justin had taken this weekend and developed. Pictures of him and Gus.

He stared at one in particular. It was black and white, and he and Gus were sitting on the couch, laughing together about something. Probably Justin's obsession with the Power Puff Girls. He smiled slightly.

He knew he wasn't a perfect father. Fuck, nobody was. They were human beings after all – bound to fuck up, sometimes spectacularly, every now and again. But looking at his son's laughing face, he thought that maybe he wasn't half bad after all. He'd been so fucking terrified that night, when Gus was born. He'd never wanted to be a father, convinced he would never pass on the Kinney legacy. But Lindsay had managed to convince him. And even though he'd sworn to only be a sperm donor, to keep away… one look at that face was all it took. Brian was a dad.

See, Jack – the difference is I really do love him.

"Hey, Brian, do you want – oh… do you like them?"

Brian turned to look at Justin and simply nodded. Then he walked towards him and kissed him.

**The End.**

Author's note: Title was taken from the poem by e.e. cummings, which I've added below 'cause it's absolutely fantastic and everyone should read it.

**I carry your heart with me**

I carry your heart with me (i carry it in  
my heart)i am never without it (anywhere  
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done  
by only me is your doing,my darling)  
i fear  
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet) i want  
no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)  
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant  
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows  
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud  
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows  
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)  
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

**e.e. cummings**


End file.
